


Not that Kind of Boy

by quirkysubject



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aromantic, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, PWP, Platonic Sex, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve is a fast learner, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-13 15:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7981021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkysubject/pseuds/quirkysubject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, during a night of vodka-fuelled commiseration, Natasha had made Steve an offer. Five months later, he's ready to take her up on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not that Kind of Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in late 2014, between the Winter Soldier and Age of Ultron. It's eventually going to be part of a long Steve/Bucky fic, but can absolutely be read as a standalone.

Despite the icy bottle of finest Kyrgyz vodka he was clutching, Steve’s palms felt hot and sweaty. кочевник, “the real stuff”, as Natasha called it. It had taken him three weeks to find a dealer who’d agreed to procure a bottle for him (for an enormous fee, of course), and then another 4 until it had arrived.

Steve had told himself it would make a nice gift for Natasha - Christmas was coming up, after all. Or they could share it with the team the next time they had something to celebrate. Or clink glasses on New Years Eve. There were lots of entirely wholesome reasons for him to have spent 500 bucks on a bottle of booze.

And so the bottle had sat in his fridge, it’s milky glass winking at him every time he made himself a sandwich, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d grabbed it’s slim neck with a muttered curse and marched himself down to Natasha’s apartment (well, floor, really, they all had entire floors because Tony Stark had designed it and Steve didn’t think the man could think in something as prosaic as single rooms) refusing to think about what exactly it was he was doing until he stood in front of the door separating the semi-public entry hall from her living quarters proper.

Unfortunately, that was exactly when his momentum just stopped and his brain took over. With its thoughts. And opinions.

_(_ _“I know you’re not that kind of boy, but…”)  
_

Soft music sounded through the door. Something classical for piano, Bach, probably, though he wasn’t an expert. He tugged at his t-shirt, feeling it stretch over his chest. He never seemed able to find any that comfortably accommodated his shoulders. Natasha had once told him to wear it when it had been his job to distract a secretary during a mission. It had worked then, drawing enough eyes to give Natasha the opportunity to sneak into the main offices. There was no reason to think a Russian super-spy whose idea of a light morning working consisted of arm-locking guys twice her size and a 57-year old office worker whose only weapons in hand-to-hand combat were her inch-long pink fingernails had much in common, but maybe a shared interest in light-blue cotton shirts a size too small was the one point of overlap. If he was very, very lucky.

Or she might just tell him to get lost. It was late and she was probably still working. Or tired. Or she had company (now _that_ would be awkward). Now that he thought about it, Steve wasn’t even sure if sex was something Natasha _did_. She knew her appeal and no scruples about using it, in fact Steve was pretty sure that if her mission required it, she’d not hesitate to go as far as she had to in order to get her job done. But recreationally? He had absolutely no clue.

He could picture it so well. Smiling indulgently at him , telling him she’d just been _teasing_ , cheering him up - surely he hadn’t really thought she’d been serious?

Steve had already taken two steps back before he called his trail of thoughts to heel and forced himself to stop. He wouldn’t slink back to his rooms only to lie awake pitying himself without having at least asked. Natasha was the most serious person he knew and she was his friend. She might tell him to fuck off, might tease him with it for years to come, but she wouldn’t disdain him for taking her by her word.

He knocked.

Not a millisecond later, the door was opened. “Thought you’d never knock.”

Damn her. “Have you been…?” Yes, of course she’d been waiting behind the door. Come on, Rogers, get a grip. He ducked his head and looked up at her through his lashes (Peggy had told him it was his second-most charming expression). “May I come in?”

She stepped back in a wordless invitation. Natasha was still in her usual off-day clothes, all soft fabric and dark muted colors. There was a half-closed laptop on her desk - still working then. Her hair was falling in soft waves onto her shoulders, a bit tousled, as if she’d run her hands through it. Steve offered her the bottle and she quirked one eyebrow in appreciation. “Stark start paying you?”

He shrugged in a move that had always looked incredibly coolon Bucky, though he doubted he came off even half as suave. “What do us lot need a pension fund for anyway?”

Natasha grinned and weighed the bottle in her hand. “So. You want a drink, then?”

No. He did not want a drink. He needed it like air. “If you’re offering.”

He thought she’d go and get some glasses, give him some time to compose himself, but  she just pulled off the cap, brought the bottle directly to her lips and took a swig.

Steve’s throat went tight. There was no reason he should find this arousing. He’d seen her drink from water bottles lots of times at the gym and it had never…

She pressed the vodka back at into her hands, letting her fingertips trail over the back of his hand. “Cheers.”

He took a gulp that was probably just a tiny bit much and suppressed a cough. He closed his eyes as the familiar warmth bloomed in his chest. When opened them again Natasha stood very close to him, much closer than necessary to take the bottle back.

“So tell me, Steve.” She put the vodka on the coffee table. Her eyes wandered over his body, from head to toe and back up, blatantly checking him out, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He couldn’t help but stand to attention. “Why are you here?”

The minx. She was just… Oh boy, She was going to make him work for it, wasn’t she. He wetted his suddenly dry lips and wished he’d remembered to apply some chapstick. He looked down to see her gaze glued to his lips.

_(_ _”Have you always had those lips? The girls must have looked.”)_

Oh. _Oh_.

He reached to cup the back of her neck with her hand and angled his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips.This at least he knew.

Steve would never dare put the words “Natasha Romanov” and “swoon” together in one sentence (not even silently in his head, because he was still  not sure as to the limits of her mind-reading powers), but but she exhaled a long breath and clung to him a bit.

He lowered his head to hers, closing his eyes only when he could be sure he wouldn’t ruin in all with a nose-bump and… there is was. They were kissing. He was kissing the Black Widow and God help him if that didn’t sound like a bad omen. Her lips were plush and just a little bit dry, but before he could get distracted by the thought of chapstick again, she opened her mouth a bit and suddenly his bottom lip was between hers and it was getting hard to breathe.

She drew back just enough to speak. “You’ve improved.”

“Kind of helps not being hunted by mean men with rifles.”

“I don’t know. I always thought it added to the excitement.” She nipped at him, once, twice, never long enough for him to react, bringing her body so close he could feel her breasts against his chest, her hips against his thighs.

She touched two finger to his jaw (just that innocent small contact and the heat radiated out from it) and let them trail down his neck. He swallowed reflexively.

“Freshly shaved”, she murmured against his lips. “Aren’t you just the gentleman.”

It wasn’t a question, and he wouldn’t have known what to answer anyhow.

Suddenly, he felt himself pulled down by her and it was only then he realized she’d moved them backwards to the sofa. He was sparring with a true master.

Natasha sank back until she was sprawled on the sofa with her back in the corner between arm- and backrest. Steve hovered over her, balancing on his arms to keep his weight off her, but she was having none of it. She grabbed him by the collar and tugged him down.

“Come on. You won’t crush me. I like it.” He must have at least a hundred pounds on her, but she insisted and so he lowered his body to hers. Immediately, she wrapped one leg around his and pulled him flush, giving a small moan of satisfaction that made him press his lips back to hers to capture it.

Her hands wandered under his shirt like they belonged there and he took that as permission to do the same.

Christ, her waist was so small. He’d almost be able to circle it with his hands. But then she moved her hips and he felt the solid muscle ripple beneath it. Small, not fragile. She could easily kill a man twice her size with her bare hands. He shifted his weight to one side to give himself more space and slid his fingertips up her ribcage until his thumb brushed the underside of her breast.

She pushed one hand into his hair and pulled him back a bit, breaking their kiss. “Go on.”

This downy softness was a shocking, delightful contrast on her wiry body. He ran his thumb over the tip and she sighed into his ear. “Again.” So he did.

By then he cursed his decision to put on a pair of his more tight-fitting trousers (the ones he’d only worn that one time because Sam had teased him about flaunting his assets). He was aching to get his fly open and relieve some pressure, but surely it was too early for that? He didn’t want to make her think he was in a hurry.

To distract himself, he ducked his head down and licked over her nipple. Her hand tightened painfully for a moment and he made to pull away but she just pushed his head back down against her. Little by little he slipped off the couch until he was kneeling in front of it. His mouth traversed the path his hand had taken earlier until he reached the waistline of her pants. There was a small silver scar low on her belly that made his stomach give a guilty twinge.

She let her fingers slip from his hair and sat up a little straighter, her legs splayed on either side of him.

And, okay, so Steve didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but for once he was grateful that Bucky hadn’t given a damn about discretion when it came to his exploits (and that Steve had lapped up every word, despite his guilty conscience). In theory, he knew how this should go.

He opened the buttons on her pants and she immediately raised her hips so he could pull them down. He revealed round hips and long legs and simple black underpants. He put her pants aside and slid his hands up her thighs.

Right. This _was_ a little daunting.

There was a hand tilting up his chin and then Natasha leaned forward for a wet, indecent kiss that left him gasping. “Didn't give me anough time to break out the full garter and stockings”, she said with a teasing grin.

“What?” Steve just blinked at her.

But she just took his hands and placed them on his hips. “Nevermind.” She leaned back on the couch and eyed him expectantly.

Okay, Rogers, this is it. He could really do with another swig of vodka right now, but that  was not jus on. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled the pants off in one swift movement.

There was more skin, some hair and moisture and pink bits, nothing unexpected really, and Steve did what he always did when he was just a bit scared. He dove right in with everything he had.

“Jesus, Rogers.”

“Sorry, I…” He wanted to pull back, mortified, but then Natasha’s had her calf on the back of his neck, pulling him against her like a vise.

“Stop and I’ll make you sorry.” Her voice was too breathy to be truly threatening though.

It was… well, it was… it was unlike anything he’d ever done before, that was for sure, but it didn’t seem overly complicated (and yes, he had read the Wikipedia article just as a precaution). There was that little nub on top that made her shiver, and then a darker wetness below that he probed shallowly with his tongue. Frustrated by the angle he was working from he wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her further down the couch, opening her up.

He tried whatever he could think of, nuzzling, nibbling, sucking, wriggling and quickly learned what worked best where. Natasha let him roam freely for a while, but at some point she steered firmly him back to her clitoris and had him suck much harder than he’d initially dared.

“Put your fingers in me.”

He shifted to make room for his hand and slowly slide two fingers into her and… Oh my, he’d probably break something if he didn’t get his trousers open right now, so he used his other hand to fumble his fly open and coordinating all those body parts got a little challenging but then his dick was free and he could concentrate on Natasha again.

Natasha, who was so hot and wet around him. In the back of his mind he wondered if and how - purely theoretically - she’d be able to accommodate anything more than two fingers, because she was just squeezing them and…

…and then she gave a strangled moan that actually had him worried for her, so he looked up and met with her dark eyes, staring out from a flushed face, and she put her hand on his cheek and…

…and then she shuddered and she pulsed around him, and there was even more wetness than before and a fresh surge lust washed through him, spurred by the pride that (he was pretty sure) he had just made her come.

Before he could properly appreciate the moment, though, she had pulled him up by his armpits and kissed him deeply. And that was… well, he would have thought she want him to wipe his mouth (face), at least, but it almost seemed like she liked tasting herself on him and… oh God. He groaned into her mouth.

She pulled back and grinned at him. “I think”, she said, still a bit out of breath (out of breath because Steve had made her come), “ you can now officially call yourself not a virgin anymore.”

“That counts?”

She shrugged. “You’ve been inside me and made me come. I’m not up on the technical definitions, but yeah. I think that counts.”

“Oh.” He felt giddy and also sheepish and just a bit disappointed, because… well, it was completely her call of course, but when he’d pictured this event, he always thought he’d have an orgasm as well.

And again he’d forgotten that she read him like a cheap magazine. “Don’t worry. I’m not done with you. In fact…” She pulled her feet back on the couch and  lay back. “…I can’t believe I haven’t even gotten out of your clothes yet.” She made a shooing motion and Steve stood up.

“D’you want me to…” he gestured at his shirt.

She rolled her eyes, but it was playful. “Pretty please?”

He tugged the shirt over his head and Natasha nodded in appreciation. “Go on.”

Steve reached for his fly only to find that it was already open and with a raging, pant covered erection peeking out. He shoved his trousers down and toed off his socks and before he could contemplate if she wanted him to take his underpants off as well, she had stood up and taken his hand.

“Bedroom”, she said, and despite everything they’d done so far he word sent a thrill down his spine.

Natasha’s bedroom was remarkably similar to his own: simple and bare. The two differences were that on her bedside table there were electronic gadgets instead on book and that she’d gone for a king-size four-poster bed where he’d preferred a simple twin mattress. She reached for something on the bedside table (an iPod? iPad? he found it hard to tell those things apart) and the music that had still been playing lightly in the other room stopped.

Natasha sat down in the middle of the bed and pulled off her top. She was absolutely stunning; with pale scars littering her skin and dark bruises from her sparring sessions. This was a body that was not artificially strengthened by super-serum or vita-rays, but driven to perform at its peak day after day by nothing but training and skill and determination. 

“Come here.”

Steve climbed onto the bed as well, sitting close to her, but not touching. He had a feeling that Natasha had a plan, and he’d be a fool to foil it.

She took her time stroking over his chest and shoulders, following the lines of bone and muscle. “Not even the tiniest scar”, she observed. Then she reached for one nipple and tweaked in a manner that shouldn’t be arousing, but still made him suck in a sharp breath, which only encouraged her. It was strange. Tickling, except where it was painful, except where it zapped lines of pleasure right down to his groin. No one, not even he himself had ever touched him like this. The thought had never occurred.

Then she flattened her palm in the center of his chest and pushed very gently. Steve fell backwards like a cut down tree and she was over him immediately, kissing him slow and deep and dirty. He let his hands travel down her back, registering the bumps of her spine and the occasional roughness of a scar or a burnt patch of skin.

Natasha sat up and Steve felt her tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Lift up.”

She slid them down his legs and… laughed?

Steve blinked his eyes open and stared at her. This was not… this was really not…

“Sorry, just…” She rubbed her thumb over his bottom lip. “Hey, don’t get all pouty on me.”

He wasn’t _pouty_.

“It’s just that… They really didn’t leave a part out when they injected you with the serum, huh?”

He ducked his head and cleared his throat. “They, uh, they did, actually.”

Now it was her part to stare. “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head and a wide grin appeared on her face. “Those girls back in Brooklyn really missed out, didn’t they?”

“Well, _I_ _’_ ve always thought so.” Then he remembered how, well, small she’d seemed earlier and sobered up. “Is it going to be a problem?”

She looked at him like he was something equal parts pityful and cute, like a puppy sitting alone in the curb. “Yeah, some problem”, she said and that was definitely sarcasm.

He didn’t get much time for musing over her reaction as she swung one leg over him and straddled him, pressing her breasts into his chest and sucking on the skin of his neck. It was an assault on his senses and all he could do was lie back and take it. Her heat rubbed against his dick, and if she’d just angle herself a little differently he could just…

He sat up.

“Steve?”

He began to scoot towards the edge of the bed. “Just a sec. I need to get, ah…” If you aren’t prepared to say it, you aren’t prepared to do it, “there’s prophylactics in my pocket. I wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble…”

Something dark that he couldn’t grasp flashed behind her eyes, but then she grinned and reached for a drawer in the bedside table. “Yeah, I’ve got this, soldier.”

Right. Of course. Women in this day and age wouldn’t rely on some guy being bright enough to bring some.

He took the offered condom and fumbled it out of the packet, rolling it on as smoothly as he could manage. For some reason, it made him feel a thousand times more naked.

Again she saved him. Natasha climbed onto his lap like he was a motorcycle and sank down on him before he could even process it was happening and all traces of embarrassment evaporated in that all-encompassing red heat. Her husky groan made him buck up involuntarily and she just smacked his flack with one hand, which made him gasp and do it again. The sounds she was making worried him that he might be hurting her, but she didn’t let up one but, so it must be okay? Please let it be okay.

His hands slid down her shoulders to her (very round, very shapely butt) and  buried his face in her neck, the waves of her hair.

“Yeah, come on, Rogers”, she whispered, and Lord Almighty, who would have thought her voice could go that low. “Don’t hold back, I can take it, I _want_ it.”

He breathed as deeply as he could to keep his head clear. He couldn’t, he _couldn_ _’t_ , what if he crushed her, what if she…

“That’s an order, Captain.” Sharp teeth sank into his earlobe and the next thing he knew she was on her back and he drove into her with her heels were digging into his back.

Natashas hands twisted in his hair and tugged and pulled as she whispered those filthy things to him, spurring him on, and to know that she wanted this, wanted him, wanted everything he could give her…

One of her hands left his hair and he felt it wandering down their bodies. It was only when she grew impossible tighter around him that he realized what she was doing and just like that every muscle in his body seized up. He held himself very still, trying to draw it out, but then he just _had_ to move and the pleasure was surging through him, from his toes upwards and making every hair in it’s path stand on end. He dimly registered the helpless moans leaving his throat through clenched teeth - and then everything went very still.

Natasha drew patterns on the skin of his back with her fingertips. Steve basked in her warmth for long minutes, until she began to wriggle underneath him and pushed him off.

Condom disposal was almost as awkward as putting it on, and he reached for his underpants as quickly as possible. Natasha on the other hand looked content to laze around on the bed in all her glorious nakedness. It was a perfect pose for drawing, maybe in the style of the Viennese Modern Age… He’d never had the opportunity to draw a nude from life. But she probably wasn’t the type to lie around for hours just t pose for him.

He realized that he was just standing there staring at her. “Are you alright”, he asked, mainly just so he had something to say.

“I’m good. Just don’t feel like getting up right now. Or ever.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Very good.” She rolled onto her stomach and looked up at him. “Fishing for compliments again?”

“Well, actually…” She grinned at that, and although he wouldn’t have minded another metaphorical pat on the back, he could manage without it. “So. I guess I’ll just…” He gestured towards the door.

“Mhm.” She nodded and reached for the tablet on her bedside table.

He went into the living room and got dressed before returning to the bedroom to say goodbye, standing just inside the door. She lay there just tapping away at her tablet.

“So.” God, now he felt awkward. Why didn’t she seem to feel awkward at all? “Goodnight. And, uh. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” It was a platitude, but then she turned her eyes from the tablet to him and looked him straight in the eyes. “I mean it.”

“Good. Thanks. You were…” Oh God, what could he possibly say that didn’t sound either way too soppy or condescending? “I’m lucky to have you. On the team, I mean. You’re a true asset in every area and…” No, no, no, Steve, stop it, just stop.

But Natasha had his back, as always. “Get outta here, Rogers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he closed the door behind him, the soft piano music started playing up again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always happy to read your comments. Feel free to offer corrections and concrit (but don't crush meeeee...!)


End file.
